


Asura As I Wish It

by ZenyZootSuit



Category: Asura: City of Madness, 아수라
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex, Starting Over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24748504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZenyZootSuit/pseuds/ZenyZootSuit
Summary: As Han Do-kyung died of his wounds, reaching towards the only person he had ever truly loved, the only thought on his mind was that it was not supposed to end like this. This was not how this was supposed to go.Indeed, it was not.
Relationships: Han Do-kyung/Moon Sun-mo, Moon Sun-mo/Mayor Park Sung-Bae
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Asura As I Wish It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raiya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raiya/gifts).



> Many thanks to Raiya for showing me this crazy film (seriously, how often to you find a movie where literally every single character dies?) and enabling my shipping habits. This was supposed to be a fix it fic, but I don't think I fixed much cuz this is still so angsty. Still, I hope I could fix some things and provide a bit of romance to dull the pain of this movie. Cheers!
> 
> Written and edited in the span of about three hours, so all mistakes are mine.

*******

_This wasn’t how this was supposed to go._

Han Do-kyung hauled his broken, bleeding body across the floor, eyes fixed on the body of his dear friend and lover.

_Shot in the throat with his own gun in the struggle. I told him I could save him even as he died under my hands._

Han was not going to make it, he realized as his vision darkened and his strength failed him, suddenly shivering and very out of breath. Desperately he reached out, fingers just barely brushing Sun-mo’s hair, how many times had he run his hands through it?

_I loved you. So much._

As Han Do-kyung died of his wounds (and of his sins), the only thought in his mind was _this was not how it was supposed to be. This was not how his was supposed to go. It should have been different._

Indeed it should have been, and somewhere in another time, another universe, it was.

*******

Perhaps somewhere out there, there was a universe in which Han did not make quite so many mistakes. Perhaps there was even one where he didn’t drag his darling friend and lover into this mess with the batshit crazy Mayor of Asura, but it was not this one.

In this one, Han still failed to cleanly resign from the police force. He still caused the death of his captain and blamed it on the defenseless junkie, unable to bear the weight of it himself. And in the end, that had led to Sun-mo’s resignation as well, led to him shacking up with the Mayor, led to them being…well, here.

Here, with Han bodily dragging a shaking Sun-mo out of the car as his lover screamed in a high-pitched voice that he could do this too, this dirty work, even as he quaked and sobbed after having just brutally murdered two men via vehicular homicide.

Han wrestled him to the ground as Sun-mo kicked and batted at him, tears pouring down his cheeks and sweat visibly soaking his white shirt under his jacket.

“I did it myself! I can do it too! I can—“

Han smacked him again, wrestling his arms to the ground even as the Mayor shoved him off of Sun-mo. Han seethed as he watched the Mayor pick Sun-mo up off the ground, dust him off, hold him by the jaw and ask him if he was all right.

 _Run away!_ he wanted to scream at Sun-mo. _Run far away from here! Far away from him! This isn’t you and never should have been!_

_I’m sorry…_

Sun-mo had been by his side for as long as he could remember. They were friends before they were lovers, though increasingly it seemed they were that no longer, and Han blamed it solely on the Mayor. Han would have never thought anyone or anything could take Sun-mo and his innocent eyes and naive smile away from him, but now it seemed as though the Mayor had.

The Mayor, too, had seen Sun-mo’s boyish beauty and also his naivety, somehow retained despite his years as a beat cop in Korea’s filthiest city. He had decided he wanted it. And there wasn’t a damn thing Han could do about it.

Sun-mo wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t listen to his pleas to leave this life, the Mayor was dangerous and cruel, rotten in his soul. Han cursed himself for how he had treated Sun-mo in the past, how he had sought to protect him from the evils of the world, but had only succeeded in pushing him around to the point where he finally walked away. Right into the arms of this monster.

And that is what happened, because that is what Sun-mo told him that damp morning on the roof at the crime scene reenactment.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Fuck you’re annoying,” Sun-mo groused. “Always pushing me around, talking down to me.”

“You’re still just a kid,” Han reminded him through his teeth.

Sun-mo’s face had taken on a truly childlike expression as he said, “I spent last night drinking with the Mayor, and he said he wanted to be a lifelong partner to this kid.”

Han’s blood ran cold. “So?”

“Just letting you know.”

Han saw it then. The slight bruising around his mouth, another mark just barely hidden under the collar of his shirt. Han had not put those there.

He got in Sun-mo’s face. “After crushing Tae, you think you’re something?” he asked, watching as some of the color drained out of Sun-mo’s face at the gruesome memory.

Sun-mo looked almost taken aback. “You’re the one who told me to go earn respect, so I tried harder than anyone. Is that so wrong?”

_You child._

_You have no idea what you’re doing!_

“Did I tell you to go berserk?” Han spat in his face. “Did I?!”

_Do you even understand that you will dream of those thirty seconds it took to kill those men for the rest of your life? Do you understand that you will shake every time you get behind the wheel of a car now for months if not years?_

_Or if you don’t, do you understand that you will lose your soul?_

_(What have I done?)_

“Han.” Sun-mo stepped away from him, a smile on his face. “If you’re jealous,” he said, cocking his head so the bruises on his throat were more visible (Sun-mo did not bruise easily, and Han shuddered to think about what other marks that bastard had dared leave on his body). “You lose.”

“You motherfucker!” Han spat, potent rage mingling with bitter _jealousy_.

_I’m the one that taught you how to kiss. How to fuck. I was. Not him. You’re mine. Mine!_

Then he was called away, forced to pay attention to the reenactment going on behind him, and it was painfully apparent that Sun-mo was no longer his.

It was made even more agonizingly clear how large the rift between them had become when Sun-mo pointed a gun in his face.

He had something to talk to Han about, Sun-mo had said, pushing him away from the shady dealings of the memorial service and into a back room of the mortuary.

In all this mess, Sun-mo had sided blindly with the Mayor. “Because the Mayor always beats everyone.”

“Yeah,” Han shot back. “Because he always sacrifices someone else! Who will it be this time?” _You?_

It turned out it had been Sun-mo that had killed Eun. He even admitted it with a deep sigh, displaying yet another part of his slowly shattering soul. Shattering because of Han.

“I’m in this rotten situation because of _you!”_ he shouted, shoving Han backwards. “Now I’ve got nowhere to run…” Those words he said quietly, fear making the ends of his words shake just a little, made the beginnings of tears prickle in his eyes.

Yet he was still _so_ naive…

Han’s heart broke into pieces. “Sun-mo ah,” he said. “He’s going to keep using us all our lives! He’s going to kill us like _dogs!_ ”

Sun-mo wasn’t looking at him.

“Let’s run away together, hmm? Just you and me.” His voice was desperate now. “Leave them to fight each other.”

Sun-mo slammed his fist and forehead into the steel cooler in front of which he had been pacing. “You pretend to be smart, but you don’t know shit!” he yelled, voice breaking at the end. “You know what the Mayor told me?”

Han did not want to know, but he could guess, given how Sun-mo’s hands were shaking as he reached into his pocket. The only thing he really saw though was the darkening bruising around Sun-mo’s mouth.

“Han is a traitor,” Sun-mo repeated. “Eliminate him.” And he pulled a gun from his pocket. “He was right.”

And Han’s entire world turned upside down. He let out a harsh breath, looking away from his lover as he struggled to find words, utter _devastation_ making it hard to breath. “He wants you to do it?” he finally got out.

“Don’t ask me.” And that gun was pointed at Han’s head.

He was _so, so_ naive. “Can you really shoot?” he asked, voice barely audible around the lump in his throat.

_How did it come to this?_

“Sure.”

_Did I treat you so badly? Do you hate me that much?_

_Or has the Mayor already chewed you up and spit you out?_

“Fine,” Han said, turning and walking out. “Then shoot me.”

“Wait!”

He heard Sun-mo racing after him, but didn’t turn around.

_If it is to end like this, let it be now so I don’t have to look him in the face as I die. I can’t bear it._

“Stop!” The gun was pressed to the back of his neck, a terrible way to die. Paralyzed from the neck down, choking on your own blood.

He stopped. “You’ll shoot me?” he asked again, feeling as though he was already dead as he turned to face his lover.

“What?” Sun-mo replied breathlessly, a wild, pained look in his eyes. “You’re so naive, you think I can’t? Shall I do it?”

“Go ahead, asshole,” Han spat. “Shoot.”

Sun-mo’s nerves failed him before his very eyes. His hands shook, dark circles under his eyes and the bruising around his mouth standing out against his rapidly paling skin.

Still, he tried to do it and Han tried to disarm him in the brief moment he was distracted by a passerby. Neither succeeded, and both men ended up exactly as they had been: Sun-mo shakily holding a gun to Han’s face, unable to pull the trigger.

Han watched as Sun-mo’s lips formed the silent words _I can’t do it_ and Han wished to die where he stood, what for the mess his life had become.

He had no one but himself to blame.

They stood there in a stalemate until Han couldstand it no longer. Could no longer stand the face of his lover in front of him, all hard lines and pain and anger.

So in one last attempt, he pushed the gun aside, fingers wrapping around Sun-mo’s wrist, caught his lover by the nape of the neck, and kissed him softly. Sweetly. Pouring every ounce of love he had ever felt for him into that one short kiss.

Sun-mo did not return the kiss, but neither did he pull away or struggle. Instead, he only quaked under Han’s hands, staring at him with his mouth hanging open in shock.

Han soothingly stroked his thumb over his lover’s hairline. “Run away with me,” he said again only this time, he was begging. “Just you and me. Like we always wanted to.”

He watched as tears sprang to Sun-mo’s eyes.

“We could go to New Zealand. No one would ever find us there and we wouldn’t have to hide. Not us. Not this.” He cupped his cheek lovingly. “We could start over. I could fix this. I’ve hurt you terribly and you’re right, this is all my fault and I’m _so…sorry…_ ” Han was crying by then as he brushed his thumb over Sun-mo’s cheek. “Please Sun-mo ah…” he whispered. “Please come with me…”

The gun clattered to the floor.

Sun-mo nodded slowly, lips pressed in a tight line as tears finally spilled down his pale cheeks and he allowed himself to be folded into Han’s arms.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Han whispered urgently, even as he pulled Sun-mo down the hall to the nearest exit. “It’s gonna be okay.”

*******

When was anything ever that simple?

*******

It had taken months to reach New Zealand. With nothing but the clothes on their backs and as much cash as they could scrounge up in their desperate flight to the nearest dock, they had worked across the East Sea to Japan on a sketchy fishing boat, where they had then found more work on various other boats until the finally stepped ashore in Oamaru, New Zealand: population 13,000, a small Korean community among them.

There, they would not stand out, but neither would they be recognized.

From there, they started over.

Han found work as a smalltime fisherman while Sun-mo worked in a local restaurant, a place within walking distance of the small apartment they had managed to come by. He utterly refused to get behind the wheel of a car. Even the sight of them sometimes made him shaky.

Han had been expecting this, had been waiting for the dust of their lives to settle before the real shit came out. The memories.

Han jolted awake for the fifth night in a row to the sound of Sun-mo screaming beside him. Quickly he wrapped his lover in his arms, shushing him gently.

“It’s all right,” he soothed, stroking a hand over his soft hair as Sun-mo bawled into his chest. “It’s over. It’s over.”

Well-meaning neighbors had called the police on them at night three, fearing some sort of abuse taking place. What the cops had found instead were two traumatized Korean men, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“We saw some shit,” Han had explained in his shaky English, Sun-mo on the bed beside him, face buried in his hands. “Him especially,” he nodded to his lover. “We’re just trying to move on.”

The cops had given them some mental health resources before bidding them good night and taking their leave. Han had thrown the information in the trash as soon as they left.

Both of them had learned well enough never to trust a cop.

“Shhh,” Han murmured, gently tipping Sun-mo’s face up to look at him. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.”

Sun-mo burrowed further into his arms. “I can’t stop… _seeing them…_ ”

Han could relate. He too saw the faces of all those he had killed in his Korean shipmates. And he hated walking past the wire fence on his way home. Far too often, it looked to him to be streaked with blood.

Han kissed Sun-mo gently on the lips (even when they made love or fucked now, he never kissed him hard. Han never wanted to see his lips bruised again. Never.)

“I know,” he whispered, brushing the hair off Sun-mo’s forehead before kissing him again. “I know…”

“I’m sorry,” Sun-mo whispered against his lips. “I should have listened to you, I’m so sorry…”

Han shushed him with a press of his lips.

Sun-mo climbed into his lap, grasping his face with both hands as he kissed him back firmly.

Han eventually pressed him down into the sheets, peppering gentle kisses over Sun-mo’s neck and chest as he moved inside him. Sun-mo held tightly to him, arms wrapped around his neck and thighs clutching at his waist as he rolled his hips in time with Han’s thrusts.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again in Han’s ear. “I’m so sorry.”

Han kissed him. “I’m sorry too.”

“I love you,” Sun-mo gasped, back arching into a thrust.

“I love you too.”

The rest of the night was filled with moans and whimpers, but no more tears.

Some nights it was Han who woke up screaming and Sun-mo who sat up beside him, blinking sleep from his eyes as he hauled his distraught partner into his arms.

Han did not sob when he woke up from his nightmares. Instead, he simply wrapped himself around Sun-mo as tightly as he could and held on until morning, shivering the entire time as tears leaked silently out of his eyes.

“What did you dream about?” Sun-mo always asked but Han never answered. “Was it the Mayor? The Captain?”

One night, Han finally told him. “It was worse.”

Sun-mo’s hands stroked softly through his hair.

Han continued. “I dreamt of you,” he whispered. “Of fighting with you in that mortuary over that gun.”

Sun-mo shivered too at that dreadful memory but gave no reply, waiting for Han to go on himself.

“I dreamt…” Han’s voice stuttered briefly. “I dreamt we were struggling, that we had the gun between us. That it went off.”

Sun-mo’s hands did not pause the circles they were drawing on Han’s back.

Han’s voice started to shake. “And it hit you. At first I thought it just blew off half your hand, but then you started to choke.” Han’s eyes filled with tears and he buried his face into the skin of Sun-mo’s chest. “It hit you in the throat and you died in my arms. I told you I could save you but it was a lie and you bled out and died in my arms—“ He broke off then, dams finally bursting and he _sobbed_.

Sun-mo held him tightly. “It was just a dream. That didn’t happen, I didn’t die. I’m right here, see?” He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to Han’s lips. “See? I’m right here. That didn’t happen. We came here instead, remember? To New Zealand.”

He was right of course, but his words did little to pacify Han, nor did they silence his desperate apologizes and pleas for Sun-mo to forgive him for everything he had done.

“Of course I forgive you,” Sun-mo whispered in his ear. “I forgave you the minute you kissed me back in that mortuary.

“I love you so much…”

“I love you too.”

*******

Han Do-kyung married Moon Sun-mo in front of a judge three years after arriving in New Zealand. They walked the mile from their apartment to the courthouse, as Sun-mo was still unable to set foot in a car.

 _Perhaps it was not ideal how things had turned out,_ Han mused as he held his new husband in his arms on their wedding night, having just come upstairs from where Sun-mo’s restaurant buddies had made food for them and brought drinks. _But it could have been worse. Much worse._

And he wondered, briefly, if there was a universe out there where he said no to the Mayor right up front, kissed Sun-mo in front of the whole precinct, and left for New Zealand on their own terms. A world with no nightmares, no memories, no phantoms to run from, no mistakes to regret.

He shut his eyes and pretended he was in that one.

**El Fin**

**Author's Note:**

> Well...that really did not go how I originally planned it, further proving that writers really do have no control over their own writing. I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading! :3


End file.
